


A Familiar Story

by charisstoma



Category: Original Work
Genre: Familiars, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:18:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2772722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charisstoma/pseuds/charisstoma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's probably many warnings that could be given to this. Kitten abandonment, illegal breeding of familiars, murder done off screen. But I think of this more a tale all too familiar of cats, pets in general, when we don't anthropomorphize them into valuable members of the family and to be protected and cared for as such. This story takes it one step further because the kitten in question is a familiar, both feline and human, Felis silvestris sapiens . This is his story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Familiar Story part 1

The witch had died during the birthing. It was a pity. How often did circumstances occur that led to a sexually viable romantic connection between a witch and her male familiar. The feline made a handsome young man when he changed his form on occasion; Jerzil had seen him. The familiar x witch results of the mating should have proved interesting. He was sure the kittens were absolutely darling. They would bring a good price for him on the black market. 

Yes, he really mourned the witch’s death; if even there’d been one more litter to be had from her, he could have set up a familiar cattery. It would almost be legal and bore consideration. Perhaps not all the kittens needed to be sold. He should probably see about capturing the male familiar too. If the stud had mated with a human once perhaps he could be induced to mate again. Without doubt a female familiar in heat would produce a rutting. He just needed to find a kindly surrogate to raise the kittens to weaning age for him; feral familiars would net him next to nothing.

*******

Long before his eyes opened, the scents and sounds gave him comfort. His mother would coo at him as she feed him, puddling his bottom to induce him to eliminate waste and bathing him after in warm water to his distressed cries. How she’d laughed as she watched him and his littermates fight their mock battles, bouncing around on little spring legs. 

Curiosity had taken him exploring on his own, dragging a sock that he’d pretended held dry kitten food provisions, and fallen asleep in a cave. Long after he should have been fed, he’d woken, chased by angry dreams of loud words, cries and thumps. His tummy’s grumbling made him investigate the interesting smell from outside his dark closet. Hesitantly into the quiet, he’d crept out, unnerved by the void of his siblings cries and scuffles. He was hungry, where was everyone? There was nourishment in the red fluid around Mother. That is how the police found him with blood around his little face and paws. One of the officers had taken him home and so began a different phase of his life.

 

***************

Officer Lowell had taken him to a vet to be checked over, one because they needed to gather any evidence off him that they could and two because the other officers said that he should. This was how Tygue had been assigned his name or he would probably have been named ‘Cat‘; Officer Lowell wasn’t very creative. The name that Mother had given him diminished from his memory.

That was the last time that Tygue saw a vet while living with Officer Lowell. Time passed and it didn’t occur to his owner that kittens were supposed to grow on a time chart; Tygue should have been a full grown cat years ago. His orange tabby coat was healthy, his eyes bright and filled with mischief, and he spent a lot of his days batting empty beer cans around on the floor for amusement when he wasn‘t abusing innocent newspapers for attention. He figured out that the lines on papers could be read while partially draped over a shoulder on the back of a sofa. Officer Lowell had learned that if he read aloud his small tiger would settle and let him read in peace.

The first time Tygue changed to human took place was during one of the long stake outs when he was four; for a day and a half he’d been human before he discovered how to change back. He didn’t try again until the next stake out and the next. It was going to be a surprise. When he was fourteen and finally at the almost adult stage, he thought himself able enough to show off his skill to Officer Lowell by changing in front of him. It was not a well received but since there’d been many beer cans consumed, it had been put down to a drunken fantasy. Tygue knew a gun being pointed at him with the slurred words, “who th’ fuck’r you; how’d you git’n here,” did not constitute a friendly hello. He’d run into the bedroom, changing back to a cat to hide under the bed. Lowell had checked over the entire house locking up everything, and sworn off alcohol. On a bad note, he’d also kept the window closed and locked after that; the window that he’d previously left open for Tygue to come and go as he liked. Tygue was sixteen when Officer Lowell had been killed in the line of duty.

The family that had offered to take him was relatives of one of the other officers. There was a whole other world out there from the city and there were children. He’d learned with them while supervising school homework at the kitchen table; discovered the workings of the computer sitting quietly beside the father as he worked at home. There was still no replacement for Mother but it had been so long that it didn’t matter. He spread himself around sleeping on soft beds purring the children to sleep and curled up into a ball against the father’s neck. He was the one sent in to wake the children for school; doing his duty stomping on them or forcefully washing various parts of their faces until they woke up. While they were all gone for the day Tygue had explored the rural landscape or read books. Summers were his favorite part when he and the children had played outside and learned to swim. The children had been pretty excited about that, telling their father all about it when they came in all wet and muddy. Tygue had been allowed to bath with them in the warm water being toweled dry after. It had taken him a bit before his fur was back to the way he liked and he’d stayed out of the way seeing to it; this was probably why he’d missed the news that the family was moving. Neither the children nor he realized that Tygue wasn’t coming with them.

He had no marketable skills but he was clothed having filched some while the family was packing. The clothing was old and going to be given away so no one missed it and he wasn’t very big at seventeen almost eighteen, looking much younger than his physical age. The father had been annoyed that the cat couldn’t be found to be taken to the pound but checked the empty house to make sure that there was nothing left behind when everything but Tygue was packed and ready to go. The children had cried, hurling words of condemnation at their father for two days before the day he was going to be captured to be sent away. The girl had especially heaped contempt on the excuse that someone else would see Tygue at the animal shelter and give him a good home. Tygue had hidden up in the old apple tree and watched them as they drove away trying not to cry as he could see the children were doing. He knew where the ‘spare’ spare key had been hidden by the boy so he had a dry house to stay in for a while and he could hunt but he was pretty scrawny by the time the man had arrived to take up residence.

Things arriving suddenly in the middle of the day almost caught Tygue sunning himself on the bench in the garden. Wouldn’t the man have been surprised to see a naked young man lolling naked in the sun’s warmth? When Tygue was in cat form now his stripes were darkened to mahogany but in human form he looked a tanned fit teen that could use some feeding up. He hid for those first few days while the activity of settling into the house had been going on. There was a feeling about the house that set his whiskers tingling and made him uneasy at first but that faded after a few days under the inducement of the smell of cooked food again.

When Tygue presented himself at the window he wasn’t sure what to expect. Would the man take him in or bring out a broom to swat him away like that one woman Tygue had tried to wind his way around while outside of the small corner grocery. The man had opened the door, looking at him carefully before retreating back into the kitchen. He’d left the door standing wide and a plate had been put down for him with many wonderful things on it. Tygue hadn’t had vegetables for a long time, not since the children had dropped them secretly onto the floor under the table for him to eat. With a full happy belly, he’d fallen asleep by the fireplace on a blanket that seemed to materialize and never noticed that the door had been closed against the night air.

In the morning, Tygue had been given a breakfast of scrambled eggs with hash browns, cheese, peppers and onions. He thought he was in heaven and after a wash spotted the door standing open again for him to retire to the outside for more mundane physical needs. His days fell into a rhythm and he knew that on Wednesdays, the man went shopping, returning to organize and put away the food that he’d bought. There’d been other things too that had been brought in but the man and Tygue weren’t quite on a first name basis. Tygue hadn’t felt confident enough to poke his head into bags even when he’d seen blue jeans and shirts that didn’t look like they’d fit the man any more than the winter coat did. Thursdays were spent in the garden while the man dug and weeded around the plants out there. There was one plant that had smelled especially wonderful that had been amongst the purchases from a gardening store. That was the first time the man had touched him, picking him up to move him away and sternly telling him to let the catnip grow before he started molesting it. The man meant it, but spoiled the effect by grinning. Still Tygue had carefully stayed away from the plant for three days and then only sat under it sniffing it longingly. This probably explained why on a Wednesday shopping day, Tygue forgot himself falling asleep on his belly sunning free of fur and clothing on the bench. It was the rumblings of his empty tummy that woke him at the savory smell of a rich stew wafting out of the back door. Quickly changing to cat, he breathed out a sigh of relief that he’d gone undetected, entering casually through that open back door. The plate on the table for him and the clothing set out said differently.


	2. A Familiar Story part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exploring the building of a relationship between an uninformed teen familiar and the man whose life he has come into. Both of them have their secrets. That might be serious foreshadowing in those two sentences. This is Branrik's side of the story of his meeting Tygue.

The realtor had mentioned that the previous owner’s cat had reportedly gone missing, and that Branrik was given leave to keep the cat, if it showed up, or to take it to the animal shelter if he would rather. He had maintained his silence listening as his thoughts on pet owners who did not cherish ‘all’ their family members could not be said in polite company. At least, with a sigh, the prior owner had thought to tell someone to be on the lookout for the cat.

Three days later a miniature orange tiger had appeared at his window. Opening the door had been easy for the cat was beautiful and they had had a stare off, assessing each other before Branrik had stepped back leaving the door agape to go prepare a plate of food. He had an inkling about the cat, for he had noticed that there were jeans and a shirt that had been left on the floor in one of the back bedrooms with noticeable accumulation of cat hair on them. Time would tell if he was right but first they both needed to be on better terms of trust. That trusting could take a while for the cat having been abandoned by his family. Until then, Branrik would feed him up and if it turned out that the little tiger was just a cat, well that was not bad either. 

Over a month, they would come to know each other; Bran noticed with a grin that the cat was not shy about eating. The cat hadn’t yet come up onto Branrik’s lap for petting, but it was often that Bran would wake up to the careful settling of furry weight on the pillow beside his head that would be gone by the time he woke in the morning. 

To speed things along, when Branrik had gone to acquire herbs for the garden, he had made sure to include a catnip plant with his order. That had been the first touching contact between them; Bran had had to restrain the cat from rolling in amongst the leaves of the newly set out plant. The furry face looking up at him with pleading eyes had almost undone him. Instead, he had sternly told his weakening feline to leave the plant be for a while, then grinning broken off a sprig the plant could better keep, rolling it in his fingers and holding it on his hand for the cat to smell. Carefully the whiskers had tickled his open hand and a tongue had swiped once before the sprig had been removed to a favored long bench, where he‘d buried his face down into the scent of the bruised herb. The cat was well behaved as well as well mannered for Bran had seen him laying under the catnip plant but never harming it. Another pot of catnip had been added to the shopping list for the next Wednesday.

Normally he’d be gone longer on days that he went to town but this time he had a tender plant to get home and pot up for setting in the sun inside the house. Winter would be coming and Branrik wanted to be prepared for the winter cold snaps that would kill the garden‘s annuals. He made note that he should set up a place to dry the herbs he would shortly harvest. Perhaps tomorrow he would go back to town and pick up what he needed as well as the groceries he had not bought today. 

He had not been too quiet about the drive up or the unloading of his purchases but still he had caught sight of a sight in the garden that made him stop breathing for a moment. On the bench in glorious beauty, he had his answer to the nature of his cat. Smooth flesh, that invited stroking every bit as much as the cat’s furry body would have, lay there being loved by the sun. If he had not wanted to talk to the familiar, he would never have laid out the clothing he had bought shortly after moving in when he first suspected what the cat might be. It was a pity to force clothes on that lithe figure with its strong limbs, those rounded globes that needed touching. Better, for both of them if the boy was covered, Bran had a better understanding of the needy wanting that catnip inspired. 

Retrieving the laundered clothes, that had been stored with sachets made of the last of his dried catnip herb, he laid them out where they would be easily seen and started making the stew he had planned for their evening supper. The table, he set with two places and everything was ready when he had sent the aroma of the meal out to wake the sleeping familiar. He had watched hidden at a window as the boy turned back into the mahogany tiger cat and had had to adjust himself due to the glimpse of the boy’s body from the front. Beautiful. He was really hoping that this worked between them, that the trust had been built enough for the feline familiar to consider their partnership having a chance. If it did not, he would still help the boy, giving him other options. 

There was no special hurry; he had had the classes on ‘Dealing with Familiars‘, intro and advanced. Familiars required patience and for them to believe they were in control of their life. Smiling he remembered the professor saying that actually the successful handling of a familiar was offering them the freedom of options, and making sure that the least objectionable option was the one you wanted them to choose. In the beginning though, with this boy, he wanted as much honesty as the feline would tolerate. The catnip’s effects were to relax him, not to hinder his thoughts, well not too badly. Bran wanted to make sure that the ideas that they would talk about had time to filter through before reflexive panic clouded the familiar’s reactions. So they would sit and talk over a nice filling stew, letting the catnip work. 

Branrik was in the kitchen bringing out the pitcher of milk when the feline entered and took in the plates’ placement and clothing, realizing his truth had been discovered. A quick glance had found Bran from the still position he had moved into, waiting watchfully. 

Nodding towards the clothing, Bran said, “It would be more productive if you would turn human again, so we can talk. Why don’t you go clean up quickly for supper.” He was glad of the kitchen counter as the cat became boy in front of him without fur to conceal what had only be that glimpse from the window. The sighed out, “gods, you are beautiful.” was outside of his control. It had taken a clearing of his throat before he could say, “may I suggest you take the clothing back with you to dress so I’m not so distracted.” 

The quirk of a smile had touched those lips knowingly and he could swear that that ass was given an extra sway on its way to the bathroom. Branrik had studiously not watched when the familiar had bent over to pick up the clothes. In his head, he had said ‘Minx.’ never expecting it to be heard by the feline. A trained and guarded familiar would not have heard it over their shields; his had from the startled look that had been cast over the smooth brown shoulder. Why the familiar had not bolted was probably due to the catnip’s smell on the clothing, signified by the boy’s mouth slightly agape in that scent tasting position. Shaking his head, Bran shooed the familiar with the motions of his hands for him to continue on his way back to dress. ‘So not trained or under-trained.’ Branrik had his path pointed out to him. ‘Careful, he’d have to be with this beautiful furry person. And he really needed to find out his name, soon.’


End file.
